


They're not you

by fairie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:26:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairie/pseuds/fairie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since he was young, Sam Winchester never seemed to like girls like other boys did. And it just so happened there was only one boy that he liked; the one he couldn't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They're not you

Sam didn’t understand a lot of things about society because they were always moving around. He never quite got the hang of trends, because from one state to the state and from one month to the next everything was different. He craved a sense of stability and normalcy that he could never have, longing to be a normal boy. It’s for that reason he’s the most interested in the things boys talk about in hushed voices with smirks that go from ear to ear, huddled around something. He scouts around on the outskirts until he can take a peek, and it’s a magazine, worn with crinkled pages. The boys jeer and point at the pages and say things like, “God, she’s the one I’d touch myself to,” or “She’s the one who would make me feel real good.” He cranes his neck to see what it’s a picture of and it’s a naked woman , and he thinks that he’s seen Dean have those kinds of magazines. As soon one of the boys sees him leering he quickly shuts the magazine and sneers, “Freak,” before they all disperse.

He goes home looking for such a magazine and he finds one stashed at the bottom of Dean’s bag. Their dad is out on job and he’s not going to come back until… well, they never know when. Dean has a date with some girl because he always has a date; Dean never cared for doing homework or for pretending that he was normal, and somehow that made him fit in all the easier. He sits on the bed, flipping through the pages, his eyes skimming over the pages with a slight shock at their content but also confusion as to what exactly he was supposed to feel or do. The other boys’ words floated back to his mind and they just didn’t quite line up with how he felt now. He pursed his lips and went on their laptop (dad used it for info on hunts and he didn’t quite know what Dean did on it), and after several unsuccessful google searches he finally stumbles on a description of what he should have been doing. Sam still didn’t understand how that… could lead to feeling as good as his peers claimed, but he had to try. To feel normal. His hand dipped into his jeans, underneath cotton fabric and he stared at the pin-up model who looked back at him with lusty eyes. He touches himself and he feels awkward, not unlike that of when he was hovering behind the boys. He rubs this flesh that is supposed to promise happiness but he only more keenly feels loneliness and that sense of not fitting in. He’s a teenager but he feels like a child, not understanding how flesh could give him all the things he lacked. After five more minutes he feels like a failure, retracting his hand and staring at it with a sense of shame. He puts back Dean’s magazine and erases his web searches. All he wanted to do was sleep. Maybe he’d be normal in his dreams.

Over the next few days he tried to forget about it, as if what he’d learnt what just as unimportant a trend as anything else was, that it was just a phase that would pass. Sam takes a new found interest in watching television, anything to distract him. And yet somehow, it was the sight of his brother coming out of the bathroom in a shower that his eyes were drawn to. He didn’t understand why, considering he’d seen Dean in such a state tons of times. But there’s something different when his gaze skims over those muscles, eyes looking over every inch of flesh as if it was the first time. Dean grabs his clothes and Sam averts his eyes back to the television set, feeling unease between his legs, and now he wished to relieve himself of what felt like a torturous itch. Why was it like this now? He’d never felt like this before. He squirms in his spot as he cast his eyes back to Dean, but by then he was already putting on his clothes, covering up the flesh that he wished to look at. He almost dashed to the bathroom and shut himself in, only the sound of ragged breaths for company for the next hour as even more shamefully repeated what would become a routine for him.

Sam begins to stare a little longer at the boys at school and they push against lockers with more force and more frequently. At first, it doesn’t deter him, in fact it only makes him do it more. He wonders what they look like under all those clothes, if they look like he does? He’s examined himself in the motel mirror, after he dragged a chair so he could get a good look at himself. Then, one of the boys gives him a black eye and he stops staring at them, instead casting his cast down. But he looks at Dean, who lets him look, or rather he doesn’t know that he stares when he undresses so that he can change out of his dirty clothes. Sam thinks he prefers Dean’s body to what any of the boys at school would look like. Dean is handsome, he knows this not just by the fact that every girl wants to date him (and he knows what else they want to do to him) but because he’s the one that Sam thinks about in those moments he’s alone in their motel room. The thought of Dean is what makes him feel like how that girl in that magazine should have made him feel. But in the pit of him he knew that he could never tell Dean, he knew that it was wrong. He’d look at him how all those boys at school did, with disgust, like he was a freak. He’d never look at him again.

Over the years he learns to make due with discrete glances and boys that looked like Dean when he was younger, but chasing this idea of youth is never quite like how he imagines the real thing to be. Keeping this locked away inside of him aches, far worse than the physical urges that come out of it. He couldn’t keep it to himself, but oh, would he tell? Never Dean, no matter how much he wanted to. But looks are never enough, they could never, ever be enough.

He’s seventeen, and one night it’s just him and dad – Dean is out at a bar, playing pool to get them some money but Sam knows he’s probably going to end up fucking some chick in the bathroom. It’s that day that his heart hurts more than it usually does and there’s his dad, who’s smarter than him and Dean combined and if there was anyone who could help him, who could know what to do, it’s him. He tells his dad everything, from the beginning, every detail, he tells of him how it’s killing him inside to live like this and how he wants to tell Dean. He’s grown up, it’s different now, he’s not a kid, they can do whatever they want. They’ve always been a different kind of family, why would this matter than everything else? Sam searches his father’s expression desperately, for anything at all.

His father only says one thing, “I think you should go to college.”

It’s the same look as those kids gave him.

He would always be a freak.


End file.
